My grandmother passed away two years ago today. I know she would be proud of all of us, but especially my brother Scott. She liked him best.
My favorite picture from our wedding is of my husband and I on the alter cracking up, bent over with laughter. People always want to know the backstory of that photo, which is the story of our photographer trying to pose us while my grandma shouted orders at him from the background and my aunt yelled back from across the aisle, “Let him do his job, Mom, he’s getting paid for it!”
May 15, 2014 :
Grandma left us today, quickly and peacefully, and though I would like to tell her to rest in peace, I know there is no chance of that happening. Grandma Frannie skipped class in high school to hang out with boys by the lake. She left home after high school to attend cosmetology school and owned her own salon long before “women in business” was any sort buzzword. After my grandfathers death she traveled, gossiped with her girlfriends and gambled, insisting that I wear a “Boat Yes” button every time I left the house with her during the construction of a controversial casino in our home town.
She bought me my first plane ticket and taught me to manage multiple Bingo cards at the same time and how to score a mean deal at JC Penny.
She never backed down from what she believed in, no matter how unpopular, and never faltered in telling her opinion, even if it hadn’t been asked for, even if it had to be yelled through the door while using the bathroom, which for some reason, it often did. She loved me, all of us, fiercely, though there may have been moments where she didn’t particularly like me. We butted heads often, I can’t imagine why.
We never once baked cookies together. There are no homemade bread recipes to pass on in her memory. But there are boxed angel food cakes and vanilla ice cream and shopping trips, and the time she blew threw three stop signs because someone had challenged her to a race from the senior center to the Dairy Queen. And I know, that even if I am blessed to live her 85 years, I will never run out of stories to tell about her.
And so, Grandma’s legacy lives on, in her memories, and in each of us she left behind.